Mentally Deranged
by SlicedHeartz
Summary: 'To fall in love with a suicidal mess is to beg for utter failure.' He whispered as he held me protectively. 'To fall in love with a homicidal tragedy is an inevitable death sentence.' I stated. He smirked, 'It's pure perfection.' - NILEY.
1. One

**a/n – Feeling crazy?**

Mentally Deranged

**One /Emotionally Insane/**

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* * *

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Dear World,

Years ago, a doctor had told me that something was wrong with me. They prescribed pills to make me better assuming then I'd be back to normal but the pills did nothing. Months after that, a therapist told me that I wasn't functioning properly. He gave me more pills so that I'd _function correctly_ but those pills also failed. Weeks after that I'd probably visited my doctor and therapist many more times so much in fact that it'd amounted to more than any child ever should. Little did I know that it would all amount to something big. It took days before they finally realized what was wrong with me, hours for them to come up with a solution, minutes for them to pack my bags and mere seconds for my parents to forget their _damaged_ daughter.

I guess you could say I didn't have the best childhood.

* * *

I'm not normal.

I feel that we should get this out of the way before I start. Just so you realize that everything you are going to read from this point on is in the perspective of somebody who is most definitely not in her right mind. Despite what the false hope my doctors can provide you if needed or my nurse's hopeful proclamations, something isn't right with me. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here surrounded by these people.

Germaine Mental Institution is a happy place.

It's printed on every brochure and pamphlet you'll find but you and I both know that a mental institute cannot be a happy place. It's as happy as a place can be with the nickname Maniac Mansion. The several storey building is designed to look like a hospital and a hotel. This can only mean that everything about it just clashes. The colors, the furniture and the unhappy patients hidden behind the thick concrete walls, sealed away in their sanctuaries (as I liked to call them). It was the only place in the building where you wouldn't feel judged. Everywhere else was dangerous territory.

If you're here it means you have something to hide. But you and I both know that secrets aren't the best things to have in a mental institution. The doctors aren't particularly fond of secrets; they prefer to be in the know. That's why they give everybody a therapist. When first admitted, the head honchos gave you a therapist randomly but as time goes on and the more serious you get they began to switch therapists until they find your perfect match. Someway or somehow they use skillfully played mind trick games to weave their way into your thoughts and soon enough, your secret is out and you have nothing to hide. Then you're drugged and monitored.

Then you get kicked out.

It dulled me, the simplicity of the operation. Honestly, I didn't give a goddamn fuck when it came to what these strangers who call themselves doctors inserted into my body. They could give me lithium, chlordiazepoxide or even a small box of Advil and I wouldn't have to worry about side effects, the possibility of hallucinations or vertigo. I'd been prescribed so many medications that I already have had to throw out a full box of bottles. You see, I'm rebellious. I don't ingest any of the medication that I'm prescribed. This way, my state of mind never improves and I'm stuck in square one. My therapist, doctor and my personal nurse were all stumped as to how I never progressed in treatment. You see? Doctors get confused once in a while.

The Mental Institute was unlike most of the institutions in the area. Probably one of the best you'd ever been through. Though I doubt that you've ever been sent to a mental institute. The Maniac Mansion was an institution for those of the wealthier people in the country. My ex-parents had their own business and the company had just begun to thrive at the same time I began to lose my sanity. The only reason they chose this place was because my mother was convinced that the more money spent was the better service. It wasn't because they loved me or anything. So don't go lollygagging around thinking my ex-parents actually give a damn about me because they don't.

They never did.

Once you dragged your tired ass out of your hospital room it was almost as if you walked back out into the world even though you really just entered its clone. They had designed the building to make patients feel comfortable and accepted (as if that was possible in a mental institute). Depending on your illness for lack of a better word you were assigned to a section of the building. Apparently, this was supposed to make you feel more centered and safe, knowing you were surrounded by people just like you. I take offense to that, just for the record.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret of mine, my first therapist once told me that my _problems_ seemed to involve me being afraid of losing control. I didn't tell anyone this but she was onto something. I don't exactly know what but she was onto something. I have this thing (we can call it that for now) where I hate to feel vulnerable. I'm the type of girl who is completely self reliant and I absolutely _despise_ the feeling of being unsure. So despite the fact that it gives me the illusion of being a stalker, whenever I walk down the hotel wannabe hallways of my wards, I've gotten into the habit of being nosy and peeking into the rooms of other patients. A majority of them don't really care since it's mandatory that doors be kept open and they've gotten used to it. The only reason I do this is because we often discharge lots of patients and when somebody is discharged it means another somebody is admitted. I like to familiarize myself with the newly admitted. I don't introduce myself or anything of the sort but I introduce them to me. I usually just peer into their hospital room occasionally and try to find out who they are and why they are here. It's times like that when I'm thankful that the nurses are such gossip whores. I listen in on their conversations and they end up dishing everything about all the new patients. It takes me three days to find out everything about whose new and who left. Seventy-two hours. That's four thousand three hundred twenty minutes or two hundred fifty nine thousand two hundred seconds.

I got off my bed and dragged my lazy body through the halls. Everything seemed to be the same. The same patients, the same newbies that I'd already investigated. All was exactly the same as it had been during yesterday's inspection which meant my ward was still dull and not worth the effort, bored of doing a check-up of nothing I demanded my fragile body back into my room and down onto the bed. Just as I was about to buzz down my nurse, something across the hall caught my attention. Directly across from me was an empty hospital room. My unhealthy curiosity got the better of me when I walked into said room with my mouth slightly ajar. I examined the empty walls, the extreme lack of personality and the empty closet. I sat on the newly made bed and smiled to myself. An empty room meant someone had been discharged.

_And when somebody's discharged, somebody's admitted._

_

* * *

_

I sat in an empty chair outside my new therapist's office and waited impatiently. As a result of my last session I'd been transferred to another therapist. Apparently one who liked to give out last minute notices. This was my eleventh therapist and I had a feeling that this wasn't going to work out. I got a new therapist nearly every month so far, they would all try to dig deeper to examine who I am and why I'm so complex. Truthfully, it's gotten so hard that they've started a private competition to see who can crack me. Nobody's winning but I found it interesting that people have resorted to betting on me. It was even more interesting to experience all the new approaches these people take on and all the things they've resorted to trying.

I waited until my phone buzzed before I clicked on the entrance button by the door. The little button blinked red until I heard the familiar click of the locks detaching themselves and the automatic door open itself. With my eyes glued to my iPhone screen I walked into the therapist's office and took my seat on the daybed themed sofa. Finishing another round of Amateur Surgeon, I slipped my phone into my jean pocket and focused my attention on the man in the leather seat.

'Hello.' His voice was husky and sexy. As he turned around in his chair, I found myself slightly surprised by his appearance. He looked very young, almost my age and was extremely, _extremely _attractive. He had curly dark chocolate hair and mesmerizing chestnut orbs. He had perfect facial features and tiny freckles that seemed to be strategically scattered across his face to make him look more attractive. His lips where luscious and pink and I found myself drawn to them as he greeted me. It took me moments before I realized I had been staring. 'Good morning.' He added with a small smirk.

He had extended his hand to me. If his eyes hadn't drawn me in, his arms definitely would have. He was wearing a simple outfit, just a white tee shirt and some black skinny jeans but he somehow managed to look above and beyond sexy anyhow. It seemed like he had dressed to show off his muscles and that he knew it had an effect on me because he flexed once he noticed me staring. He was leaning back in his chair with his legs extended showing me the hidden black Converse on his feet. I smiled to myself. We were wearing the same shoes.

I watched him carefully. Something in his (gorgeous) eyes seemed a little teasing. 'You're not my therapist.' I noted matter-of-factly without hesitation or second guessing. He looked a little taken aback by the statement. His smirk (I'm getting the feeling that I'll be seeing it a lot) appeared on his lips as he let out a small chuckle before gazing back up at me.

'Smart' He said easily leaning forward in his chair. His posture gave away that he was suddenly interested in me. I took this to my advantage and decided to lie down properly. His eyes momentarily wondered down my long legs before landed on my Converse. He smiled. He probably noticed what I had earlier. 'and a tease.' He added finally looking back up to my ocean blue eyes.

I acted as though I'd ignored his comment though I was actually pondering if it had been a compliment or not, 'Last time I checked, I was here for a therapist session. Nothing in the notification indicated that I had to waste my time talking to you.'

He smirked as if he had taken some pleasure out of my response. For a quick moment, I noticed a small dimple in his check whenever he smiled. He was staring at me patiently as he licked his lips and spoke up, 'What's your name?'

'Are you always this forward or am I an exception?' I replied flipping the bangs out of my face the best I could. They blocked my eyes from staring at him. Never so much in my life have I regretted giving myself a haircut.

He opened his mouth to speak when a loud voice interrupted our conversation, 'LUCAS!' I turned away from the wannabe therapist boy and looked at the direction of the booming voice that was now echoing throughout the small therapist room. In the doorway was a woman who looked like she was in her mid-30's. She was wearing a high-waist black skirt over a simple, white blouse that matched her black boots. Her outfit was wrinkled and her hair was a mess as if she'd been frustrated and kept running her hand through her hair. Her face was extremely flushed as she gasped for oxygen, 'Mister Lucas.' She gasped, 'Please get out of my chair.'

'So you're my real therapist.' I said with certainty. The boy leaned back in his chair and continued to stare at me just as if the dramatic entrance of my therapist didn't faze him. Something about him captured my attention. 'So, is your name Lucas?' I asked with slight confusion then immediately regretted asking. His smirk appeared on his lips yet again as he finally looked at the real therapist with an amused expression. Something about that irritated me.

'My name _is_ Lucas and this is my mother.' He said in an introductive voice. I kept my eyes on him as he made eye contact with my therapist. Something in his expression seemed a bit … off. Almost as if he was trying to hide something that his eyes just wouldn't deny. 'Don't spazz.' He said with a sigh as he got out of his seat. He met my gaze one last time and mumbled, 'It was nice meeting you. Would you like to tell me _something_ before I leave?' he asked again, subtly asking once more for my name.

I shrugged, 'I'd like to leave you with one thought but I don't think you'll have anywhere to put it.' I tried to fight back the smile tugging on my lips but once my therapist cracked a smile I couldn't fight the urge. Lucas raised an eyebrow as he was evidently shocked by my response. He chuckled softly before shoving his hands in his pockets and turning away.

'One minute.' said the real therapist. She gave me an apologetic smile as she slipped out the door with Lucas to probably yell at him for attempting to take her position as a therapist even though he never really got away with it. I leaned back in my bed-like couch as I waited for them to finish up their conversation. There was something about Lucas that was interesting and I hate to admit it, but I was feeling slightly disappointed when I realized that the therapist was his mom. That meant that he wasn't a patient here. Everybody in this place was screwed up emotionally and I, myself, was a little bit socially disturbed in a way. It was rare for somebody to bring out a confident side of me.

Moments later, my therapist walked back with a brush in her hair. She was clawing out the frizziness from either a run from the front desk to the therapist's attachment to the main building or she had just screwed around with Lucas in a matter of seconds and was fixing her sex hair. I decided to go with the first option. Only because it gave me a little spark of hope that'd I get to see him again.

My therapist (who may or may not have fucked the cute curly haired boy) smiled to me innocently as she took a seat where Lucas had been only moments before. A felt a pang of annoyance hit me as she sat down so easily as if she was dismissing the fact that he'd ever been there. I flinched as the anger of the emotion ran through me while I looked at her with an expression for pure hatred. Forty seconds and I already knew that this therapist-patient relationship wasn't going to be a good one.

It was just another failed attempt at trying to find me some help.

The therapist introduced herself at Amy Christopher. Her name sounded strangely familiar but a familiar as if she had the same name of celebrity or character in a movie I'd seen. She went on to talk about how old she was, what her favorite stuff was and other bullshit that I didn't care about. This was all part of the natural process that my therapists where forced to go through to supposedly form a close relationship of trust with their patient. This step seemed to be the most unnecessary with me. I don't care about my therapist's life because I really don't care about anything in general.

As her lips moved and empty words spilled out, I found my mind wondering off to Lucas. It was the first time I'd ever met somebody partially normal in the entire institute. Something about him interested me. It might've been his sexy smirk, the way his smile was contagious or even his eyes. His deep, intense chocolate eyes. I could feel myself glaring at Amy as she continued to talk not noticing how much I dismissed her currently. Why was it so easy for her to act as he had never been here? She was going on and living her life like he'd never been in the room as if his existence was something I'd only imagined.

I froze. This was one of the complications coming with being mentally insane. I knew I wasn't insane though, there was technically nothing wrong with me but I was here wasn't I? I was sitting in a therapist's couch in the attachment of the main building that made up Germaine Mental Institution. I was neglecting my therapist's voice because my mind was somewhere else but was it really? Or was it one of those moments when I just got emotionally insane? Was this just a side effect to being socially disturbed? Maybe I'd imagined this boy because I just needed somebody. I was tired of being alone, sure but that didn't mean I would've resorted to making an _imaginary friend_. If he hadn't existed, then why was Amy's hair so tangled? Did I pass out momentarily and just make-up the entire scene up to the point when she began to speak? Wouldn't she have noticed me lying there sinking closer to unconscious then suddenly jumping out of it? I'm pretty sure she would have, most people do.

I convinced myself that Lucas wasn't my imagination. Even though he could have been and probably was. When you're locked up in a building of people with mental illnesses you begin to doubt everything but now, this moment right here I'd never felt so unsure of myself. I wanted Lucas to exist because he seemed complex. He gave off the vibe that he was somebody who could keep up with me. He had somehow managed to make me forget everything else and focus on him. Even though it had only been for a couple minutes. It was still something nobody had done in such a long time in my life. Then I remembered that he was the son of one of the therapists meaning he wasn't a patient here. So even if he did exist (which is a possibility might I remind you) we wouldn't be able to see each other often but honestly, why did I care? It's not like we're engaged or anything. He was just another guy. Maybe it was my curious side that made me want to find out more about him.

Or maybe it was something else.

That's where the train of thought halted. It _was_ nothing else. He seemed partially normal and I was not. I was tired of putting myself out there with boys who only lead me on because I was beneath them and it made them feel safe. My emotions where safely hidden behind a brick wall and because of one mysterious boy who may or may not exist, I'm suddenly exposing myself to the world. No, life is not like this and so in that instant, I put myself back behind my hardcore exterior and eliminated any feelings for Lucas inside of me and once again, I was empty.

It felt good to feel nothing.

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**New story! I've been meaning to start this for a while. So, you guys think this guy is Lucas? It's NILEY, you bums. Think hard and use your cranium ;D. If you're not following me on twitter and tumblr. I hate you.**

**&& my twitter username is SLICEDHEARTZ and my tumblr is SCRIBBLEDLOVES.**

**Can you review please? I'd like to know if you're feeling this vibe. Thankss.**

**- D. E. B. B. Y.**


	2. Two

**a/n – Do you know how much I love second chapters readers? Lots.**

**Two.**

Dear World,

_Folgerphobia, _also referred to as Javaphobia._  
_

It's something I've never really understood. Why be so fearful of something so harmless? Ludicrous. Such thing seem ludicrous to me, only because I fail to fully comprehend how somebody could hold so much disgust to something that has no heart and makes no move to threaten humanity. Then again, it's not up to me is it? Fears are never something you can understand unless you take on the position of those who fear it themselves. You'll never fully understand. That's the problem. I will never get to know what it feel likes to be folgerphobic. Just as you will never know what it feels like to be mentally deranged such as I. Society needs to take note and respect that. We will never know.

_Folgerpohbia._

We shall never understand.

* * *

The worse part about being held captive at Germaine Mental Institute is spending your nights listening to others scream. It's the way their desperate pleas of pain echo off the walls and flow throughout the building. It's the haunting shiver that fills your body when you hear them yelling for a savior or for assistance because they can't take it alone. It's knowing you can't help them. It's the way my ward can be silent for a heartbeat before filling with the sound of another's agony. It's knowing somebody is dying. It's knowing they won't be back in the morning. Sometimes it's even the eerie silence that tells us the nightmare is over.

Mostly, it's knowing your next.

Tonight the high-pitched yelling belonged to Jenevette Van Densen. Her case as strange as her name, her parents had finally decided that they couldn't handle her anymore. All of her medical bills where for nothing, seeing as she progressed in treatment only to fall back once more. The doctors were having trouble handling her random seizures and the nurses couldn't take another one of her sick nights. Today was her last night here and she had no clue. I knew though, I was conveniently filled in when the nurses gathered around my room whilst setting up the room across from mine. Unfortunately, they had yet to spill who the new occupant was. The anticipation was beginning to eat away at me.

Jenevette stopped screaming as I heard the clang of a medical instrument coming in contact with the portable metal tables the doctors usually carried around with them. I heard the familiar squeak of the stretcher as they laid her slightly-chubby body on it and I closed my eyes tightly as I heard its wheels leave her hospital room and hesitantly roll by my door. They _knew_ that Jenevette and I were somewhat friends (I'd spoken to her once without raising my voice. Extremely rare for somebody like me) and that I would somewhat affected by her murder—death, I mean. Somewhat affected by her death.

It was over now. This was usually the time when I would allow my mind to wonder until it eventually led me to a comfortable sleep. I'd postpone my guilt and disgust until the next morning when I was fully refreshed and I actually had to the time to worry about what had happened just the night before. It was what I usually did on nights like this. Except tonight it seemed as though my mind had other plans for me. I could feel the energy pulsing through my veins as I stared up at my ceiling.

I sighed, 'Sleep is not on my side tonight.' I mumbled to myself.

Rolling out of my hospital bed, I groaned as I felt as my blood rush through my body. I contemplated changing out of my baggy black pajama bottoms and a navy blue tank top but eventually decided against it. I slipped my cold toes into my slipper boots and stretched my back out as I slid out of hospital room. The dim hallway lights lit up my ward thus, guiding me as I did my best to quietly navigate through the halls. The ward was freakishly quiet as I snuck down to the elevator. The soft elevator music was my only companion as I impatiently waited for the fifth floor. The metal door finally slid open and I sucked in a breath before opening the doors to the cafeteria.

_Starbucks, starbucks, starbucks. _I thought as I tried to find the small coffee kiosk in the dark. A glowing light switch caught my eye as I flicked it causing a yellow light to light up the entire room. Thankfully, the cafeteria was unoccupied and I was completely isolated. If seen, supervisors would've escorted me back to my room and drug me with some sort of sleeping pill. I wasn't in the mood for artificial sleep tonight and though I knew coffee would just demolish the chances of ever getting to bed, I couldn't fight my craving.

Starbucks was closed (obviously) when I finally found it hidden behind a Taco Bell. I crawled across the counter and flicked on another light so I could investigate the kiosk. Underneath the barista counter was a list of ingredients to make certain drinks. I picked up the thick binder and sprawled out the papers as I searched to feed my craving. _Decaf Venti 7-Pump Vanilla No Caramel Drizzle Extra Hot Extra Foam Light Vanilla Powder Caramel Macchiato. _I yawned to myself as I flipped through the pages looking for the Caramel Macchiato directions. Finally I found them I didn't hesitate to start my creation.

It took me twenty-five minutes to prepare my Macchiato and I vowed that the next time my barista does this in record timing; I was going to tip her greatly. The whip cream can hissed as I squeezed as much whip cream as possible into the Starbucks cup without causing it to overflow. The can spat out was left of its contents and I sighed at the lack of foam. Licking some up with my tongue, I moaned in pleasure at the amazing taste of my vanilla overload.

'Did some whip cream just give you an orgasm or did I walk in at the wrong time?' said a husky voice that had literally appeared out of nowhere.

My heart stopped beating as I spun around to see who belonged to the voice. It was a good thing I hadn't screamed otherwise supervisors would be down here in an instant and probably would've confiscated the macchiato I put so much effort into. 'You.' I said upon seeing his exceptionally attractive features and sexy-as-hell curls. Only then did I realize just how seductive his voice was. If this wasn't our second encounter, I would've just leaped onto his rock hard chest and just done him right then and there. 'You just scared the shit out of me.' I muttered, slightly pissed off.

'It's nice to see you again.' He said flipping some curls out of his eyes. I could've sworn my heart just skipped a beat at how his eyes shimmered with excitement even in the depressing cafeteria. I hated to admit it but this boy was drop dead gorgeous.

'Why are you here?' I asked referring to why he was in the mental institution. Had he not made is specifically clear that my new therapist was his mother? The administration committee did not allow family members of staff into the building, most definitely not into my ward. Plus, this mysterious pretty boy was much too attractive to be mentally impaired.

'I never got your name.' he said changing the subject instantly. Why was he always avoiding this question? Even though it was slightly frustrating, I ignored his ignorance towards my healthy curiosity and decided to play along with his somewhat bipolar personality.

'Indeed you didn't, Lucas.' I said in victoriously. I felt somewhat proud that I'd gotten his name meanwhile he'd been wondering mine. So you could understand my confusion when the corners of his (luscious and delicious) lips turned up into a smile and he shook his head. I made note that he had decided not to laugh.

'You do that Lucas _is not_ my first name, right?' he said with his sexy smile. I swear to God that I could just melt into his hands just from him giving me a simple hello. Never mind him speaking dirty to me, I just… I can't.

'What is your first name?' How I managed to actually get real words out was astonishing. This boy was turning me on without so much as an effort. I almost envied him for it. Did he have this effect on the entire female population or was it just me? Whatever, as long as he continued to make my insides churn then the fact was irrelevant.

'Tell me yours.' Was his best comeback. I didn't like his short answers; I wanted to hear his seductive voice a lot. I was wanted it to echo through the cafeteria. No, screw that, I wanted to hear him screaming out my name and moaning in pleasure. Yeah, that's what I want. Believe it or not, I believe in abstinence. Well, I mean I did before he waltzed into my life and spoke.

'Mile.' I uttered the nickname I'd received my (ex) parents. 'Miley.' It slipped out before I could realize that I truly did want him to know my name. Something about my name leaving his lips made my heart swell. 'Miley.' I repeated once more, only then realizing how my own name had become so foreign to me. Honestly, I wasn't _Miley_ anymore. I'd become somebody else entirely.

He nodded, 'You actually have a beautiful name,' he paused licking his lips. 'Mi.' it was short and easy and for a moment I wondered if he had even said anything at all but his chocolate orbs were staring at my face as if asking for permission to give me a new name. I repeated him and he smiled as if this authorized his request. 'I'm Nicholas.' He said hesitating like I had with the full name admittance.

'Nick?' I asked.

He shook his head, 'Never. In my household it was always Nicholas. Never anything else.' He refused to meet my eyes when he made this confession. I decided to make note that he had used past tense when describing himself. In my household it _was_ always Nicholas. After a moment of mindless wandering his mocha eyes finally met mine and I frowned. Behind his false exterior, he was hurting. He had the same expression as our first encounter; he was trying to hide something that his eyes refused to mask. I was beginning to like that about Nicholas, his eyes were always truthful.

'What are you doing here?' I jumped back to the subject he was originally trying to avoid. Nick was a mystery for sure. I suddenly realized that when he raised his eyebrows at my bluntness. Another thing I noticed is that unless we talked about his past, Nicholas never tore his gaze away from my eyes. It felt as though he was trying to look into my soul, like for the first time in a long time somebody was actually trying to look at _me._ Like, really _really_ look at me. I tried telling myself that it was nothing but I couldn't help but feel content in the fact that somebody actually wondered about me.

'I came down for a coffee.' He said slyly, smirking. I bit my lip randomly as I tried to control my thoughts. His smirks where starting to really get to me. 'Why are you here?' he asked, his lips suddenly in a straight line, his face now sporting a serious expression. 'I mean, why are you in Germaine Mental?' he beat me to it before I could come back with a witty answer. I sighed; he was too smart for his own good.

'I made a mistake.' I muttered, suddenly catching his full attention. He seemed somewhat surprised that I'd decided to be completely honest with him. 'Not my words.' I suddenly added in. Something about Nicholas made me want him to be on my side. Frankly, I just wanted somebody to realize that I was more complex the doctor's medical summaries described me to be. 'Words of my therapists, nurses, doctors.' I sighed, 'they all think that I made a mistake, they're so sure that it was an accident. Spur of the moment type of thing. It wasn't a mistake though. I know what I did and I'm sure it was not accidental. I know that I'm different. I'm not the same girl I was before. My hair is darker, my mood is darker. I'm darker. I can understand that I'm in GM for a reason. I can come to terms with the fact that I have a mental illness but that's not me. It's not _really_ me. I'm not a mess. I'm not the fucked up girl everybody thinks I am.' I stopped suddenly realizing I'd let out to much information. Re-analyzing my words I realized that I was pretty subtle and he didn't completely understand what I was talking about. Yet he nodded as if he had.

'You're here, though.' He said leaning away from the counter slightly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sucked in a deep breath. I swallowed some more of the hot liquid that was now the only thing comforting me. Nicholas gave me feelings, feelings I've never had to deal with before. I didn't like it, it was better being numb than not.

'I am.' I replied placing my cup on the counter.

'Indeed, you are.' He said just as a therapist would. Something about his answer irked me. He was suddenly treating me like I was his patient and not just a girl to talk to. Anger boiled inside me as he continued to search my eyes for emotion. That was one thing that I continuously prided myself in. Unlike sensitive others, I was good at keeping myself in tact. I could bite back a sob like a professional. It's another reason why I went through therapists so quickly. I wouldn't open up. Nobody was powerful enough to break through the thick metal shell I'd built around myself.

'Stop searching.' I spat angrily. His eyes widened as if he didn't expect me to be so straightforward. I suddenly wanted to get this conversation and over with. Never thought I would say this but Nicholas was beginning to tick me off ever so slightly.

'What do you mean by that?' He asked, his voice quivering. He sounded almost nervous. I smirked suddenly, realizing that my sudden statement had really gotten to him. I was beginning to understand this mystery boy. I'd only found piece of the puzzle and I'm sure he has a million more yet I felt somewhat accomplished. Nicholas is a real puzzle. He's complex, like me.

'I can see it in your eyes.' _You're flawless, gorgeous, mesmerizing, delicious chocolate eyes. Which by the way, drive me insane._ 'It's in the way you're looking at me.' I said once more feeling extremely sure of my self. He seemed to be taking in each word one by one and analyzing them as if they where more than just jumbled letters of the alphabet. 'I can feel it too.' I added wanting him to understand completely. Been doing a lot of that lately. 'It's like you're searching for me. You're trying to figure out who I am. You're trying to understand me.' I finished, stating the impossible.

'I can't.' he sighed flashing me that (sexy) devious smirk of his. He shrugged his shoulders and leaned forward, his hands now on the counter and his face in line with mine. We weren't too close but if I leaned over the counter I'd be able to kiss him. Endlessly. 'I can't understand you. It's frustrating.' He mumbled. 'I can usually read people like a book. It's in their actions, in their words, in their facial expressions but you're different.' He sucked in a deep breath then let it out slowly, 'You're unique.'

'I'm fucked up.' I recited a small smile on my lips. He let out a soft and quiet chuckle. Only his husky voice made it sound so seductive. Again, his chocolate eyes were observing me but something was different about his gaze this time. Something about it was off. 'Giving up?' I asked, feeling his eyes looking at me only softly.

'No.' he replied, 'I'm going to approach this at another angle.' He spilled his game plan. I smiled. This boy was amazing. 'You can feel it?' he asked jumping onto the counter. The movement was so swift that it caught me by surprise. He then proceeded to jump off the counter and land directly in front of me. Not only was he now close enough to kiss without much effort but I could feel our bodies touching, barely but still connected. 'What do you feel?' he said taking a step forward as I took one back. It was like he knew my movements.

I paused. 'I feel your vibe. Like you're radiating it for the world.' I said back tossing out my Starbucks cup. There was an astonishingly cute boy in front of me within kissing distance thus coffee was the last thing on my mind.

'You feel a connection?' he asked getting closer yet still seeming so far. I could feel his breath on my neck as he leaned in to my ear. I shivered as I felt his lips brush against my ear. His minty breath his skin as he whispered seductively, 'What are you feeling, Mi?'

It was probably the nickname that drew me in but the words spilled out before I could stop them. There was no holding back with this boy. He just seemed to get me, 'You're close.' I whispered back sucking in a breath. 'But you're too far away.' That didn't make sense did it? They were the only things in my brain at the moment as he rubbed his cheek against mine whilst pulling away.

'Can I touch you?' he was asking for permission. My heart swelled at how sweet he was being. His eyes portrayed pure innocence and his body was at a comfortable distance yet prepared to shrink back if he made me uncomfortable. I pouted. I didn't need him to ask permission as sweet as the gesture may be. I just wanted him to hold me. To know what it would feel like.

'Yeah.' I breathed out making the words barely audible.

There was no hesitation; it was if he wanted this just as much as I did. His arms slid around my waist and our bodies collided. My hands where around his neck as he leaned down and placed his lips by my ear once more. He didn't kiss me. He just held me. We were touching yet it was in such a manner that it didn't differ much from a normal hug. It felt different though, it felt much different. Suddenly, I was yearning for him.

'You two—'a deep voice interrupted, 'Out of the cafeteria. It's after curfew and all patients need to be in their assigned rooms.' The words echoed off the walls. Nick's hands slid away from and our bodies where suddenly distanced. I decided then that I didn't like being apart from him. I wanted him to near me at all times.

'I was just saying goodbye.' He lied. The guard seemed to dismiss the fact that visiting hours ended hours ago and that Nick's statement should've earned him a strict speech. The curly-haired boy turned to me and flashed a quick smile. His smile was sad though, I made note of that. 'My mom is working late.' He whispered. He jumped back over the counter and ran past the supervisor.

No _this was nice._ No _see you later._ No _goodbye_. The supervisor led to my room and I was glad he didn't ask questions afraid that my voice would crack. My wall was down. It was only momentarily but it had been let down. And again, I'd walked away disappointed. I'd forgotten that Nick wasn't a patient here and that I'd only seen him twice. He was normal. He didn't belong with a fucked up tragedy such as me.

I didn't sleep that night. I was disgusted with myself. Instead I stared at the door and desperately waited for something to happen. _Anything_ to happen. I stared at the door until early hours when sleep overtook me and I reluctantly fell asleep. Only then did something appear at my door. It walked in, mumbled something, caressed my cheek and disappeared. Too bad I was so unconscious that I'd failed to notice. The bright side?

I wasn't the only one sleeping with an aching heart that night.

* * *

**Baadaa! A maniac's love. Doesn't it make your heart swell? **

**So for the whole Miam breakup, I meant to put my previous GAC chapter but I forgot. Shocking, ain't it? Think Niley will hook up again? I don't know! For some I'm getting the vibe that Miley would be more into the relationship then Nicky boy. **

**STALK MY TWITTER: .com/slicedheartz**

**Like this? Love this? Reply to me and I'll reply to you.**

**Mwahhh!**


	3. Three

**Three.**

Dear World,

_Contumacious._

What does it take to work up the bravery to go against all you've ever believed in? How much does it take nowadays for a person to break out of their captive sanctuary and step outside their comfort zone? How much does one require to erase all their lines and actually go outside of the box? How much does it take to rebel? Personally, I think it's all an illusion. Yet, we only live our lives, as if we want to get the most of what we've been given before we reach our inevitable expiration dates. So, why live it with restrictions? I'm not saying you should go out and do something stupid like drink and drive or do major drugs or drink bleach or any of that bullshit. I'm simply stating that when spontaneous chances appear before you, why don't you jump at it? Why are these people in our world so... safe? Me, I prefer to do things that appear to me. To live in the moment because truthfully, that may be the only moment you have. Then again, you shouldn't take advice from me. I'm in a mental institution. Probably with good reason.

_Contumacious._

Boundaries are for bitches.

* * *

It's been nearly four weeks since the Starbucks incident and I had yet to hear from the curly-haired massacre. I spent endless hours pondering that night, doubting my actions and wondering if I'd done or said something that freaked him out. Then again, _he_ was the one who asked if he could touch me and began making all these ludicrous (but extremely accurate) assumptions that I felt some sort of connection between us. I merely agreed with this and went along with it. Was that seen as weird? Maybe my impulsive decision making scared him off. Either way, I found it bothersome that he was on my mind constantly. Usually, I'm in control of my own thoughts but it seemed as though whenever I thought about anything, things would always find a connection that led my train of thoughts involuntarily back to Nick.

Annoyed with my own mental problems, I slowly began to change into my comfort clothes as I listened to the pumping music that came out of my headphones. I danced and sang quiet;y to the catchy tune of a new Ke$ha song as I pulled the somewhat tight fitting red shirt over my sweat-shorts. The top was somewhat new and read out, "TOO COOL FOR SCHOOL' across the chest substituting the two O's in cool for a pair of broken nerd glasses that had been repaired with tape. I smirked at myself as I put on a pair of thick black-rimmed glasses and posed in the mirror, like a boss. Sarcasm.

"I don't mean to critique on your seduction technique but your money's not impressing me, it's kinda weak. That you really you're gonna get my rocks off, get my top and socks off by showing me the dollars in your drop box. Me and all my friends we don't buy bottles, we bring em. We take the drinks from the tables when you get up and leave em." I sang to myself as I slid on red high-tops and tugged the elastic band out of my hair and leaving it on my wrist. Grabbing my key from the table, I exited the room with gum in my mouth and quietly began to sneak out of my ward. Of course, after curfew.

I didn't really have a plan as to what I was planning to do but I knew for sure that I didn't want to stay locked up in my room. Once more, I wasn't giving the proper response to my treatment and nurses seemed to stalk me wherever I went. It felt suffocating to have them on my back every step I took but I could somewhat understand the major precautions; a month ago (though I hate to admit it) I was doing pretty well. Steadily, I was heading down the right path and people were beginning to get their hopes up again but as usual, something went wrong and the scales dropped back down. To be completely honest with you, it all started a little after I first met Nick. But you know, that's probably just a coincidence.

Nicki Minaj suddenly began to sing as I crawled through the lobby to get outside. The quiet secretary had fall asleep but the video cameras hadn't. I cursed myself as I saw the faded color on my knees. That's what I get for all these late night sneak outs. I pulled a hat over my messy hair as I cut through the bushes behind my ward building towards my usual spot. The cold wind blew past me and I shivered quietly causing me to let out a small moan. It was slowly easing into winter and it was just a matter of time before I had to start wearing a jacket. The sun had already set and the moon was shining from what seemed like directly above as I began the long journey up the hill when suddenly something stopped me.

"All the times I tried to steal my best for you and I threw it up to keep it down and watch it burn, I hate the sound and I, I know just how you feel. 'Cause I don't know how it ever got away." I froze in my position and listened quietly to the soft voice coming from a distance. At first, I feared it was a security guard or somebody that would escort me back to my room (those bastards) but as I listened closely I was compelled with the urge to go forward. So I did.

"No, shit, fuck." The voice mumbled as it cleared its throat. "Cause I still feel all the things I did before. When you used to want it more. Eh, when you used to need it more. Yah," more mumbling, "Cause I still feel all the things I did before. When you used to need it more. Remember all the ways you fixed me, how?" More grumbling, "Well that's too fucking bad because you didn't fix me, you dirty whore." The voice chuckled, "That works."

I bent down behind a bush as I spotted a figure walking towards me. Who the fuck was that? Nobody that I knew had

enough nerves to sneak out past curfew (except for me) and barely any of them hung out by my ward. People always knew to stay away. I growled under my breath as the figure continued to walk and sing. I hate to admit it but the dude had a good voice. It was soft and innocent yet still husky and seductive at the same time.

"I lock the door. Turn on the water, bury that sound. So no one hears anything anymore. Mirrors lie to me, tell me you can see and maybe you won't be able to recognize me now. I know you can feel all the things you steal and you're taking it, you're taking it. Feeling so easy, make me skin and bones." By the tone of the voice, I could tell it was a boy. He had completely changed songs and was now singing in a depressing tone, an octave lower. Emotion hung on each word that left his lips and I had to bite down on my bottom lip so I wouldn't scream out. I had to get out of here and now.

Being what I thought was swiftly and quietly, I attempted to crawl out of the bushes, back up against the building and just maneuver myself back to my ward along the sides. Instead (and this could only happen to me), I ended up running into a couple of bushes, stepping on a (freakishly loud) twig and cursing aloud as I tried to find the building behind me. The figure's head suddenly snapped up in my direction and I thanked my lucky stars that it was too dark to see anything or anybody.

"Who's there?" His words lingered in the air as they echoed into absolute silence. I held my breath and squeezed my eyelids shut, involuntarily biting down hard on my bottom lip. What if this guy was a rapist? Though not many people get raped at a mental institution. What if he was a guy who kept rabbits in his basement? God, I hate those kinds of people. Or worse, what if he was Justin Bieber? Oh fuck no. Worry began to set in; if this guy _was_ Justin Bieber then I would probably spontaneously combust from frustration and hatred. My guts would splatter all over his teen heartthrob face and he'd be scarred for life.

In case you hadn't notice, I'm not much of a fan.

I pressed my body against the wall as I waited for possibly Justin Bieber to walk away. Instead, he took another step closer and called out to me again, "I can see you. I know somebody's there! Seriously dude, what the fuck?" I can't even come to describe what came over me but instantly my feet began moving and I realized I was running back towards my ward. "What are you doing? Come back!" he called out, chasing after me as I sprinted as fast as my feet would carry me.

Luckily, I had the convenient advantage of a head start and managed to get to the ward entrance without company. My heart was racing as I leaned against the entrance doors and desperately tried to find my breath. I closed my eyes as I rubbed my face with my hands and tried to slow down my racing heart. That was just _way_ too close.

"What the hell?" His voice was right beside my ear and caused me to jump with alertness. His hands were on either side of me pressing the walls and blocking every and all exits. His breath hit my neck as I sucked in a deep breath and bit on down on my lip. His eyes stared into my mine and I instantly got lost in his mocha orbs. Was it even logical for somebody to have such perfect eyes? If so, it was completely unfair that they'd gone to him. I breathed out as I found myself face to face once again with the unforgotten, Nick Lucas. The curly-haired massacre.

'Fancy seeing you here." I stated lamely as I blew the bangs out of my eyes. Nick chuckled and took a small step closer. Unlike him, I was very aware of the closeness between our two bodies. It was probably the reason my palms were so clammy and butterflies were having a lethal war in my stomach.

"Mi." he said quietly, "What is a good girl like you doing out here past curfew?" he said it as if he was trying to seduce me. To be honest, he could've said it normally and he would still achieve successful seduction. I dug my hands into my pockets and began to shift my weight from leg to leg. All nervous habits that I'd grown accustomed too. This boy was exhilarating; his very presence was enough to get me going. And I hated it.

What boner?

But no, in all seriousness, that was a joke.

"Nick." I said in the same tone, "What are you doing here at all? Shouldn't you be at home? It's nearly midnight." I asked quietly as if somebody was listening to our conversation. I'd been wondering about Nick a lot lately and why he was always at the institute if his mother was a therapist. It didn't make any sense whatsoever. Family relatives, friends or people with any personal relation to staff were not allowed on premises at any time unless otherwise directed. Nor were they allowed to register here. Something about favorable treatments or some bullshit that I could really care less about. Either way I knew for sure that Nick wasn't supposed to be here as often as he was and every time I seem to ask him about it, he'd always coax me into changing subjects. Smartass douchebag.

"What do you do out here?" he asked suddenly, tilting his head slightly to the right as he raised an eyebrow. "Not much to do when everything is closed and all the lights are out. What captures your attention?" _You do._ I wanted to say but didn't. He was truly an attractive man but his personality was a little bit insane. I could never keep track of him. Maybe it was because he was generally a confusing perrson. Or maybe just a really good liar.

"What I don't understand is," I smiled, "That I can be asked endless questions but you never seem to answer any of mine." I crossed my arms as I searched his eyes for emotion. He was lost for a second but instantly zoned back in moments later. Yet for that quick second when his mind was roaming, I couldn't help but wonder where he'd flown off too.

"I answer your questions." He said simply taking another step forward. I took another sharp breath and let it out slowly, flipping my bangs back into my face through the process. At this point, I was sure that he was playing me. I just couldn't figure out how or why. Ah, the complexities of Nicholas Lucas. "You asked me what my name was and I told you. You asked me why I'm always looking at you and I explained thoroughly. Or have you already forgotten me?" His expression was completely unreadable.

I shook my head, "No."

"No?" he asked, this time genuinely confused. Good, so I've somehow managed to get through to his untouchable emotions.

"No."

Nick scrunched up his eyebrows and licked his lips, he froze for a while before his moist lips parted and he whispered, "No what?" Simple words and a sensible question yet somehow I found the entire statement complex. Nick could just be complex, it's not like I care or whatever.

"I don't like this, Nick." He opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off, "I don't like whatever it is you're doing to me. This whole facade that you put up to make you seem all tall, dark and handsome. It's your vibe, again. Except this time it's not genuine. You're hiding something from me, and I don't care much for it so just keep your wall down." I said avoiding eye contact, "Stop pushing me away or whatever it is you're trying to do. It's impeccably frustrating." I said, ending off with a quiet whisper.

Nicholas smiled, a small, adorable and innocent smile as his hands slid from their original position and were shoved back into his pockets. He stared at me and I stared back and for a quick moment, we just looked at each other. Like, _really_ looked at each other but the moment was broken when a frown appeared on Nick's face and he instantly turned away. I sighed and began to walk away when he stopped me, "What does a good girl like you do out after curfew, at midnight?" He asked again in a deep voice.

I froze, "She rebels." I whispered back, turning halfway to see his expression. He smiled.

"Rambunctious." He whispered staring at me for a second. "Mi, how about you and I break a few rules tonight?" he said as he swayed from side to side with his hands still in the pockets of his hoodie. I stared at him again, his curly locks forced under a black hat that easily blended into the night sky, his baggy grey hoodie that slung over his figure, his black jeans that fit his legs like normal jeans should and his face. His flawless, delicate and unforgettable face. His eyes shimmered with hope as his lips turned up into a half-smile. He taunted me with his expression as if he was nearly daring me to join him. I crossed my arms over my chest tightly as I took another step back. Declining his offer dramatically, I walked away from him and turned to enter my ward when suddenly a red flashing light erupted from nowhere and a loud siren began to fill the quiet, dark air.

He smirked, "I'll take that as a yes."

With his hand intertwined with mine, we ran off to the darkness.

* * *

**No offense to people with cats in their basements, who love Justin Bieber or whoever may have been offended. I HAD TO RE-TYPE THIS WHOLE FUCKING CHAPTER BECAUSE I WANTED TO POST FOR YOU. Yeah, exactly. MY TWITTER USERNAME IS SLICEDHEARTZ, follow me and I'll love you again.**

**XOXO, Ray (My friends found a way to get Ray out of Deborah which is cool cuz Debb was getting boring. Either name is cool though)**


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